


Everything is Alright

by Liebisadick



Series: Getting Better [2]
Category: Markiplier (Youtuber), jacksepticeye (YouTuber)
Genre: Comfort, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Recovery, they're really in love ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5288429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liebisadick/pseuds/Liebisadick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eyes casting downward, he looked at Mark who was mumbling in his sleep, his hair a mess and his eyelids fluttering, mouth hanging open as more snores followed. No, these marks were painful in reminding him of what had happened, but they were also good. They were going to remind him of his promise to Mark, his promise to become stronger by being brave enough to ask for help. He was brave for making it so far, and he was sure he could be a little bit braver. </p><p>Closing his eyes, he let out a soft sigh. “Everything is alright.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything is Alright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Roosterbytes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roosterbytes/gifts).



> I got inspiration for this based off of a conversation me and Roosterbytes were having. She's really so kind. I really am thankful to have met her. I wrote Quiet Little Voices as a sad one off. But she made me want to write a a happy ending. Maybe there will be more, healing is nice.

It wasn’t day one that was hardest, no, day one was easy, it was day sixteen that had tripped him up. 

It had been just over 2 weeks since his attempt if he could even call it that, bits and pieces flashing in his mind as he barely recalled the dreary night filled with screaming and tears. Images of blood and rain, and tears and again blood filled his head and made him weep. But he remembered Mark clearly. He remembered Mark through glazed over eyes, his face as he wept and held him in his arms, the look of pain and fear that had crossed his face and the way his voice was soft and broken as he broke into a soft prayer to a God he knew neither of them believed in to not lose another loved one in his arms. 

It was Mark that made days one through fifteen the easiest, and day sixteen difficult. 

Day sixteen was when he was getting out. It was the day he had been anxious for, his bandaged arms wrapped around his thin body as he gripped and tugged at his shirt between white knuckles. What if Mark did not want to see him? It was all possible, all a horrifying possibility as he had made Mark cry, made him scream and weep and tremble and everything he shouldn’t do to his lover. He was scared to go home because what if what was left of home was no longer there? He was scared of returning to an empty home. 

But he returned. His hospital clothing traded for new clothes, his old ones soiled with blood and he was sure it was Mark who had brought these for him. Only he knew of his love for his soft blue hoodie. He changed his clothing and was dropped off down the block from his house, his need for ‘fresh air’ leading him to ask to walk home though it was rather the fear of actually reaching his threshold that made him walk so slowly. 

His hands in his pockets, Jack clenched and unclenched his fingers, top teeth worrying against his bottom lip as he mumbled soft things to himself as he tried doing a one man argument about his fears. 

“He’s not going to be there, I know it. I cannot possibly know that though. Of course I do, I made him cry. What kind of fucking boyfriend makes his boyfriend cry? A suicidal one. Exactly.” 

Needless to say, his fears weren’t relinquished even by the time he had reached his front door. He stared at it for possibly a solid ten minutes. He stared at the red door, hand on the door handle and his fingers pressing ever so slightly to open it before pulling back. He couldn’t open the door, he couldn’t move the handle, he could only stare at the door way, so red, just like his arms had been and feel the nausea rising in his belly. 

“Go on, knock,” he muttered to himself, trying to psych himself up for the challenge. “Just do it. Just like Shia LaBeouf says, just do it Jackyboy.” 

Pressing on the handle, he took a deep breath as he turned the handle, slowly pushing the door open and stepping in only to run into something solid and stumbling backwards. “Ow, what the fuck?” 

Jack stopped breathing. Inside the door in all of his pain filled beauty was Mark. He looked perfect still, so very perfect. His hair was smooth and freshly washed, and his eyes were bright and his favorite flannel on and he just looked so perfect and- 

“Jack?” Mark looked at him. 

Panic rising, Jack nodded and gave a weak smile, trying to laugh pitifully. “Hey Mark- I uh, I’m home I guess.” The statement came out more like a question and he almost cursed himself for it. They simply stared at each other, Jack loitering just outside the doorway, too afraid to try to come in and be rejected, Mark just staring at him. “M-Mark?” 

He had bridged the gap. By the time his name was muttered, Mark had bridged the gap between them, reaching out and grabbing onto the blue sweater and pulling him into his arms, again against his chest as he held him tightly. Jack’s eyes were wide, his breath he held coming out as a soft and shaky sigh, trembling fingers slowly rising up to grip Mark’s shirt and they held each other standing over the threshold of their home.  
\---

Their reunion was warm and sweet and painful in the most wonderful of ways. 

They laid on their bed, the sheets soft and white again. Mark said he had bought new sheets. Looking around their room, he felt slight waves of anxiety wash over his body, his eyes hardly able to meet Mark’s eyes in fear he’d remember the tears once more.

“Jack?” Mark asked, laying on his side, he had his legs wrapped around Jack, propping himself up on his elbow, his other arm gently running through the tangles of Jack’s soft hair. 

“Hm?” he hummed, eyes looking down at his feet, eyes lidded and breathing softly. 

“What was it like?” Mark whispered softly, his voice soft and low, and cautious. Jack looked at him. 

“Why Mark?” he asked back to him. 

“Because I need to know what you went through.” carding his fingers through Jack’s hair, he smiled slightly as he elicited a soft sigh from him. “Please? I didn’t know you were in pain and now I just-” his brown eyes dragged down to Jack’s arms, his hand moving from Jack’s brown hair to his arm, gently dragging his fingertip over the rough bandage. “I want to help.” 

He felt the sting in his eyes at the worry in his voice. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jack shifted his position, moving to lay facing Mark, brown eyes meeting blue in a moment of silence. “I never wanted to tell you, I didn’t want you to know.” he said softly, unsure of his words. “I didn’t want to tell you, I wanted to handle things myself. I wanted to not put myself before everyone else, so many others need my help first.” 

“Jack, babe,” Mark frowned, worry lacing his words. “You know that’s not what I want though. It’s alright to talk to me, especially when it gets so bad. I need to know what you’re going through, why you’re hurting. I need to know how to be strong for you when you need me to.” 

Closing his eyes, Jack shook his head, a soft whimper worming its way through his lips. “I’m scared too. I’m scared it won’t change things, you’ll look at me differently.” 

He heard a sigh, felt the shifting on the bed and worry clenched his chest at the fear that he was leaving. No he can’t go, he can’t walk out, not now please- Warm lips touched his forehead. Opening his eyes slowly, he looked to see Mark pressing close to him, his lips against his forehead and his arm wrapped around Jack’s back. “I couldn’t,” he said softly, placing his forehead against Jack’s now and kissing his cheeks softly. “I can’t think or look at you differently. I just know I am scared to lose you, I was so fucking scared Jacky, you wouldn’t stop bleeding and I thought I’d lose another person in my arms. In my home. I can’t go through that again Jack, and to stop it I need to help you.” 

He cried now. Warm tears dripped down his cheeks, and Mark made sure to kiss them away softly, mumbling that it was okay over and over between soft pecks. Jack gripped Mark tightly. He never wanted to hurt Mark, never wanted to burden him with his problems yet refraining from doing that only hurt him worse than he could have imagined, had turned him away when he should have asked for his help and he had almost made him lose him. It wouldn’t have been Mark and Jack anymore, just Mark. And that’s why Mark had cried. Why Mark had cried and screamed that night, calling for anyone to help him because he didn’t want to lose him Jack realized. He would have escaped hell, but he’d be putting Mark in one. 

“Promise me Jack,” he whispered, his hand through Jack’s hair again and his nose nuzzles against his. “You gotta promise me you’ll try to let me shoulder some of the burden too.” 

Nodding, he sniffled and held Mark’s side close like he was scared of letting go again. “I promise.”  
\--

The morning after was warm. 

Mark’s soft snores filled the room, and it made Jack’s heart squeeze a little bit as he stared at him. It had been so long since he had seen someone so beautiful, and it made a smile tug across his lips. 

Looking down at his arms, Jack ran his fingertips across the cloth, stopping at the knot holding it together and gently tugging. He started to unwrap slowly, the stained brown cloth folded over itself, resting in piles on the bed as he stared for the first time at his arms. His marks were bumpy and slightly red still, some faded while others remained prominent and dark. It hurt staring at them, looking at what had happened as he tried to destroy himself in order to exorcise the memories plaguing him. 

“Mm, Jack,” 

Eyes casting downward, he looked at Mark who was mumbling in his sleep, his hair a mess and his eyelids fluttering, mouth hanging open as more snores followed. No, these marks were painful in reminding him of what had happened, but they were also good. They were going to remind him of his promise to Mark, his promise to become stronger by being brave enough to ask for help. He was brave for making it so far, and he was sure he could be a little bit braver. 

Closing his eyes, he let out a soft sigh. “Everything is alright.”


End file.
